This blog was created for others who will hopefully glean something from the words I have written.Not much to say except I ran off from an orphanage when I was 13 years old.Hopped on a freight train and joined the circus.Have been wandering ever since.I am grateful to be alive and my only desire is to leave something here for others to gain from.If I can accomplish that then I have successfully reached my intended goal.All we have left in the end is our legacy.

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Thursday, July 26, 2007

"Ode to Blackwater Hattie"

Down in the swamps of LouisianaBlackwater Hattie hides in the bogDabbling in magic with gators aboutConcealed in the fogIce water runs through her veinsAs I approach her she already knowsI bring her an offering of fresh tobaccoTo mix with the herbs she growsShe gives me a look as she smokes her pipeOut on the porch in her chairShe signals me to come forthI look at her pure white hairQuickly she looks me up and downHer eyes look deeply into mineSearching for the meaning of my visitLooking for a tell tale signNobody goes to Blackwater HattieUnless they have dire needSome come to her for remediesOthers over personal greedI jingle my coins and make my requestExplaining to her slowly and trying my bestI tell her of the love for my ladyI want a potion to bless our loveBlackwater Hattie lets out a laughIt flushes out the flight of a doveOf course she agrees and snatches my coinsDissapearing into her shackShe quickly returns and hands me somethingIn what appears to be a small sackGiving me instructions to wait til the moonIs full in the sky at nightTo open the sack and burn its contentsGiving me also words to reciteI thank her politely and begin to leaveBut she asks me to stay for awhileWanting to know of the happenings in townShe cracks a gentle smileHattie reloads her pipe to the brimWith my offering of tobacco I had broughtLighting it with a kitchen matchThen pausing as if in deep thoughtShe tells me a tale of a lovely maidenWho once lived in the bogShe used to dance under the moonlightFollowed by her faithful dogThe town folk used to laugh at herMany thought her to be insaneOne day she dissapeared Only tales of her would remainSome say that the maiden was HattieShe neither confirmed or deniedThere was that twinkle in her eye as she talkedSomething from down insideShe bid me goodbye until the next timeSlowly I began to departNever would I tell a soul in townThat Hattie had seen my true heart